


Ruin the Moment

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2019 [28]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Anatomy, Bad Puns, Bottom Peter Parker, Butt Plugs, Cock Tease, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Established Relationship, Humiliation, Humor, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Muscles, Rough Sex, Scars, Short, Situational Humiliation, Smut, Strip Tease, Stripping, Teasing, Top Wade Wilson, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 28.Omorashi| Stripping/Strip Tease |Vore| HumiliationWade breaks into Peter’s apartment because he’s horny, duh, and gives him a strip show witha bitof an unexpected climax.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> I hope this is even remotely as funny as my sleep-deprived brain thinks it is 
> 
> **UPDATE 1-29-20: ** Just a couple of edits!

Peter is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Wade snickers, shutting the window behind him with his back.

_ “Whhyyyyyyyyy,” _Peter whines, slamming his head back down on the soft pillow he’d been sleeping soundly on but a minute before.

“Just wanted to see ya.”

“It’s–” he glances over– “two in the fucking morning. Get out.”

“Aw,” Wade pouts in the dim light of Peter’s table lamp, “didn’t want to see me, Spidey?”

“It’s. Two. In. The. Morning. Come back in five–” he holds up a full hand, _ “five _ hours. Just five _ fucking _ hours.” He sighs when Wade doesn’t just fucking leave already. “I _ know _ you sleep too. Maybe not as much as me, but you do sometimes. So just go do that. Take a nice, relaxing nap in your own fucking apartment.”

Wade tuts, sighs. “T’aw, see, I just can’t do that, though, Parker.”

_ “Why not?” _Peter asks into the pillow, seething.

“Got myself all worked up.”

Peter is intrigued enough by that to perk up, move his chest more than ten degrees for the first time so he can fully look at Wade for the first time. He _ gasps. _

_ “Why _are you in your super suit?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Peter’s eyes go wide enough to show the whites of his scleras, forgetting the bags under them in a second. “Wh-what happened?! A villain, a new one? Or a fire, arson, burglary, oh God, Wade!”

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down!” Wade whisper-shouts, waving out-stretched fingers through the air to quell the man back to his cosy bed. “No, no, none of that. Don’t worry. I just meant,” he chuckles, even he must admit he sounds stupid right now. “I just meant I was thinking of you, Peter.”

Peter slumps down slightly, frowning. “ ‘Thinking of me’?”

“Yeah, you know, _ rose petals and candlelight, a warm bubble bath under the moonlight.” _

Peter clicks his tongue, rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “So you were thinking about fucking me in my bedroom.”

“You got it!”

Peter throws the heavy blanket over him, huffing. “Too bad. Sleeping.”

“Never stopped me before–”

“I do _ not _give you permission this time. Now go jerk off somewhere else.”

_ “Alright, _if you say so…” Wade sing-songs, the thump of a leather belt and subsequent clattering of numerous firearms and assorted weapons making Peter about grind his teeth to dust.

“Somewhere else, Wade. What does that mean?”

“Not where you are, at least.”

“Not just my fucking bed, get out of my room! Get out of my fucking apartment or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing!”

Wade guffaws. “You think the coppers are gonna put a dent in me? I’m a wanted fugitive in ten different countries, highest one is five hundred thousand dollars, dead or alive.” He throws his katanas to the floor like garbage. “That’s in Botswana though. _ Still _not entirely sure what their deal is.”

“But now,” Wade says with excitement sparking his voice, a grin through his mask and fingers waving through the air, “it’s time for the big show.”

Peter squints. What was he gonna do, flashbang the room?

He better fucking _ not, _because Peter had to move the last time that happened.

Instead, Wade just sighs, grabbing at his right hand with his left, pinching his middle finger and thumb over the end of a red glove tight to his forearm. He struggles to catch the very end but gets it quick enough, pulling the material down and over his fingers, stretching the expanding fabric until it gives all the way up at the seam of his deltoids, coming down with a few sure yanks.

Peter watches as wide swathes of his thick arm reveal itself, scars running along his skin every which way from previous battles with countless enemies, all of which he won, one way or another.

He’s seen Wade’s muscles before, of course. Both clothed, in battle, out of it, naked in all sorts of contexts. It shouldn’t be surprising, just how toned his body is.

And yet, it was.

He throws the glove to the ground to move onto the other hand, whistling some thriller tune to himself all the while. The way his muscles tense as he comes to grip and tear the glove off was strangely captivating. Rippling flesh, straining tendons, all under the dark scars that moved upon his skin like waves.

Another glove joins the floor. Then he leans down to his feet, muttering, “This part’s always a bitch.”

He has to really grab the toe of his shoe and fucking _ pull, _so hard he grunts with exertion, sputtering and cursing and ripping, those sinewy muscles of both arms bulging and relaxing only to tense once again, large veins strewn throughout his skin showing even further when he tries to yank his boot off.

And then his boot suddenly flies across the fucking room, banging into the wall. The steel-toed edge of it crashes into the drywall with a loud thud, surely awaking the neighbour to that side. Whoops.

But even more whoops is when Peter glances over to see the light catch on a plane of the wall not previously there.

“I-I’ll pay for that, don’t worry!”

Peter growls low, pissed anyway.

The other boot is easier, still requiring some huffing and puffing but blowing right across the floor without much event, thankfully.

Limbs now free, Wade grins at his boyfriend still staring on the bed, unimpressed. He risks an eye down to the lower part of the covers.

Damn, still not even a _ little _hard. He’d have to do much better than this.

He pulls an arm toward his body as though to shrug, determined, carefully manoeuvring his arm through the delicate hole in his suit. Well, it seemed delicate, but really it could stand quite a bit of wear and tear, it was _ Deadpool’s _suit after all.

One large, muscular arm through the neckhole and now free of any restraining clothing, he mirrors it on the other side. And then the last of his attire is ready to be dropped down his torso, kicked off his legs to leave him entirely nude.

But oh, he can’t let it be _ that _easy.

So instead, he grips his large fingers into the skin-tight material of the stretchy suit at the very top, pulling it down over his bulky chest and doing his best not to wrinkle the fabric, just to make it even slower.

His neck is the first thing to show, even his Adam’s apple covered in scars and bruises both fresh and old. Then his sharp collarbones, front of his trapezius stretching with the movement of his downward arms. The expanse of his marred chest gives way to solid muscle of his pectoralis major, tight and broad, absolutely massive. Small dusky nipples accent either side, hardening at the direct cool air in Peter’s bedroom.

Wade keeps sliding the suit down, to the bottom of his defined pecs, down further to reveal the striping of his serratus anterior on either side, the pack of muscles of his abs showing two at a time, tight boxes of packed flesh.

Wade’s smile flicks Peter’s entranced grin up to it, making the man remember himself, what he’s doing. He feels a hot heat run across his entire face. Wade just shakes his head, tugging on the suit now across his hip bones to bring Peter right back to it.

And he follows exactly where he’s meant to. Because it’s just so oddly captivating, watching Wade slowly drag the cloth down so the V of his crotch just begins to show, angling in and in and in until it’s interrupted suddenly by an obvious bulge in the material that gets it stuck. Wade chuckles, stretching the attire forward to pull it over his erection. Hair by hair, he pulls the suit down. Peter’s eyes are wide, waiting for the second he’ll finally get to see it, Wade’s big, hard cock, the teasing enough to make him flick his eyes, shift his legs back and forth under the covers.

Instead, Wade lets the suit snap back down on the head of his cock, the cloth now hung up entirely by the rod of his shaft, looking utterly ridiculous. He raises his hands to either side when Peter scoffs in exasperation. “What? I thought you didn’t want me doing this here.”

“Just fucking _ take it off already, Wade! _You’re already ninety percent done for fuck’s sake.”

Wade tuts, but relents. His fingers snap back into the wrinkled band of his suit, pull it out and over his cock to reveal it finally to Peter’s hungry eyes.

It’s just the same as always, nice and big, thick and textured with twitching veins, flushed a cherry red at its head and shiny with pre.

A very nice cock indeed. He would never admit it, but sitting there, Peter feels his mouth begin to water, salivating at the mere sight of it.

But Wade still has more yet to go, still has to pull his clothes down over his heavy balls, his ass, quadriceps, speeding up once he reaches his lower thighs, off his kneecaps and over his feet in one fluid motion.

He throws the crumpled red-and-black suit to the side, pursing his lips.

“What’d ya think’a that, Spidey?”

Peter is just huffing on the bed, entire body flushed from his chest which peeks out of the covers, all the way to beneath his boxers hidden away from plain sight. But Wade can, of course, see the tent formed in the blankets by now, just as obvious as his own erection poking through the air.

He reaches up to his chin to take the paper-thin fabric of his mask in between his fingers, pulling it up and over his face to reveal a visage just as battle-scarred as the rest of him.

All the more attractive for it.

Peter’s breath catches in his already panting lungs when Wade’s lips curl to a smile, eyes holding a terrified light as he walks to the bedside and lays a hand on the blanket, just on the upper inside of Peter’s shaking thigh.

Peter wheezes, whines and whimpers.

Wade is legitimately confused. Sure, he’d expected maybe a gasp, but _ that? _Seemed a bit mu–

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Are you _ fucking _ ** _kidding me,_ ** _ Peter?” _

Said Peter throws his hands up defensively, leaning back only to grimace at the feeling of semen leaking down his crotch.

Even despite the burning hot blush on his cheeks, the heady shame that runs through him, Peter murmurs with the slightest grin, “Guess I _ shot my web _ a little _ too early.” _

_ Absolute silence. _

Awkward, laced with tension and disappointment almost palpable.

Then Wade throws his head back, lets out a weary groan from the bottom of his very soul.

_ “Goddddddddd,” _ he cries, slapping hands over his own face flushed in second-hand embarrassment, _ “that was fucking _ ** _hoooooooooorrrriiiiible!”_ **

“Any way I can make it up to you?”

Wade slides a finger out to open one eye, staring wide at Peter’s tentative face.

Wade grins, hands going down to the bed as he crawls up to Peter still tucked neatly under his blankets, cock swinging between his legs all the way.

_ “You bet that there’s always _ ** _one _ ** _ thing, Spider-Man.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Little second chapter where our two heroes actually get down to business! ;D

“ 'Spider-man'?” Peter chuckles as Wade drapes his large chest over him. “Really?”

“Aw, what? Would you prefer Pete? Petey, maybe? Petes? Peeeeeeeeeeanut?”

Peter shakes his head even as he smiles, grabbing Wade’s muscly forearms that brace around his head, lowering down to their elbows so a battle-worn face can rest an inch from his youthful one.

“Peter’s fine, Wade,” he says, eyes lowering down right as his warm breath ghosts on Wade’s lips, pulled into a grin of his own.

Wade nods, pressing the rest of his body centre and downward, so Peter can feel bulky legs framing his own, a torso pressing down with abdominal muscles obvious even through the obscuring fabric of his covers.

And Wade picks the perfect time to whisper against Peter’s lips, “You’re right. Peter is _ just fine,” _because that’s when Wade angles his hips down, a hot piece of flesh pressed right between his own body and Peter’s through the blanket and his boxers.

It’s obvious what it is by the throbbing of it, the heat, the twitching and pulsing of his veins Peter can feel even though it’s not right against his skin. He swears he can feel it jump, leap up between the tight space of their bodies in anticipation.

Because Peter just looks so damn gorgeous beneath Wade: all young male features, not a wrinkle on his unworried face. Even as his lips part with a gasp, his brows furrowing close in concentration though he lets loose a moan, his skin remains flawless. Just as innocent as Peter is himself, unburdened by memories, unhardened by the erosion of time.

Soft as his skin, though he might try to make up for it by his staunch morality. Wade passes his hands over Peter’s neck, pausing to note the fragile mortality in the beating of the blood in his jugular, moving down his shoulders and under the cover to his arms where superficial muscles lie.

Peter’s obviously not a stick, not out of shape by any means. He’s an active superhero, swinging from webs all day built his upper body into almost purely efficient muscle.

But unlike Wade, Peter’s still rather lithe. Skinny. Less weight to have to haul, but also less to throw around in a real fight, which is probably why he doesn’t get in many of those kinda scraps.

So for all the muscles he might have, impressive as they may be with the definition of them—especially on his arms, all the way down to his wrists and his fingers remaining uncalloused—he’s still pretty damn small.

Wade dwarfs him easily, obvious as he covers him completely with his body, presses him down and into the bed with effortless strength that makes it clear he could obliterate him, if he wanted. Just like any worthless baddie, doing away with them with a quick punch or a kick like it was nothing, sending them into the nether realm without so much as a grunt.

But he won’t do that, of course. Wade’s conscience might be questionable at best, but he has a soft spot for this particular hero. A little jokey crush, a deep-found respect, an obsessive infatuation, a heady lust, maybe even true, genuine love. Whatever you call it, maybe the answer’s a combination, all of the above, but Wade doesn’t care.

Because he’s got the little Spidey now, all to himself, to have and to hold and to keep to himself for as long as he can.

And as he wrinkles the cover further to wave his hands to the middle, pressing his hardened digits into the relatively pliant flesh of Peter’s midriff, it’s all too apparent how open, how vulnerable Peter is to him now.

Truly his, all his, as he can’t help but rut down against him at the sight of his blushing face, the lust in his eyes. The look of what one might even describe as confusion mixed in with that unbearable heat, the virginal quality to it that Peter still retains although they’ve been fucking for months now.

Because Peter just can’t quite get over it, grasp it, understand it.

Even as Wade’s right there, literally right on top of him, holding him down and frotting his fucking cock against his own one quickly regaining bloodflow under the thin sheet, he still can’t believe it.

He doesn’t even know entirely what it is he doesn’t believe, that’s how lost he is.

That he has a man on top of him? A muscular, bulky, pure powerhouse of a guy who he’d never even thought himself possibly interested in the type of before?

That he’s pinning him down? Running down the white sheet upon his warm bed in his apartment to grab hold of his hips, press his fingers into the bones of his pelvis to steady Peter's buck of pure instinct?

That it’s Wade Wilson? Deadpool, the gun-slinging, screw loose mercenary with hardly a sense of direction in the world, but countless lives to his name?

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that he’s enjoying this. Legitimately, undeniably, loving every fucking second of it.

That as Wade takes a hand from crushing his side to throw the cover off and onto the wooden floor, he feels his hardened cock twitch up in his boxers, press right against Wade’s and make him throw his head back, groan in pure elation, dizzying want.

It would have seemed crazy, just half a year ago.That they ever would get to something like this, to grinding against each other almost entirely naked, desperate as animals in heat.

But here they fucking are, a few dates later and Wade’s able to get his hands on Peter’s ass, massage into the perfect roundness of them before digging his fingers into the waistband of his underwear.

Rip the pesky bit of attire right down Peter’s leaking cock, exposing him to the air, the cruel cool of it quickly covered up by the immense heat of Wade’s body pressed flush.

And as the cloth is dispelled just as carelessly onto the floor as the blanket, that warmth only grows further, from chest to waist to groin to leg, right against him so he tries to arch his back in liquid pleasure only to be denied by Wade’s heavy body, hands bruising his hips.

The coverage is completed when Wade presses his face down against Peter’s, meeting his lips to feel the moan of pleasure rather than just hear it. He twirls his tongue against the other’s, guiding him there just as much as he does with their lower bodies, the one to rub up against Peter’s needy cock only when he wants to, when he damn feels like it and nothing more.

But soon Wade feels the need to move on, growing bored and also too hot at the same time from frotting his cock against his boyfriend’s, listening to his whines and little begs that are just barely coherent enough to draw the idea that he also wants to turn it up a level.

So Wade slides off of Peter’s body, saddling to the side to make just enough room between his hip and Peter’s crotch to run his hand over his pink, swollen cock. Swirl his scarred thumb over the shiny head of his glans, collect the precum and smear it down his shaft speckled with light veins. Feel his balls twitch beneath his fingers, threatening to cum if just for one more touch, what with the way Peter tosses his head back, moans into the pillow with spit-glossed lips.

Wade won’t torture him, at least not tonight. Instead, he’ll settle for just making this quick, dragging his fingers down his ballsack and to the tight expanse of his taint, using the precum he’d gathered as makeshift lube. Of course, he’ll get up and get some actual shit, wouldn’t want to hurt his precious, innocent little boyfr–

“Oh.”

Because _ oh. God. _

“Wow.”

Peter manages to smile through his fingers on the bed, spreading his pale thighs just the slightest bit to make what Wade’s only just discovered even more readily apparent.

Maybe Peter wasn’t so innocent, after all.

Because he has a plug up his ass, a little black silicone one by the look of the lone base he can only just make out in the dim light of the table lamp.

Wade squints, blinks, opens his mouth and just breathes a hesitant chuckle for a second.

“Y-you. You really.”

“Y-yeah. I, uh, did! I put it in, oh,” he looks at the clock, “three hours ago. I should still be good to go, I think. Especially with it!” he’s barely able to wink as planned, for a horrid flush burns his entire fucking body.

But Wade does actually seem impressed, if the silent gawk, the wide eyes, are anything to go by.

The guy had it in the entire time Wade was stripping.

And Wade thought _ he _was the depraved one in the relationship. Clearly he was corrupting the kid, after all!

And that shocked expression remains the entire time he rises up, rummages around Peter’s little dresser, the bottom drawer at the very back corner under the sweatpants because for some fucking reason the guy fears someone will find it even though he lives alone.

And it’s still there, even when Wade’s slicking up his fingers with the silicone-based lube, the other remaining dry trailing down to Peter’s legs so slow it seems he’s stuck in a damn dream.

So, “Wake up,” Peter says, rolling his eyes slightly and spreading his legs further open, meeting Wade’s gaze with newly confident eyes. “I was expecting you, you know.”

“You were not.”

“Totally was. I haven’t let you fuck me in, what, three days? And you’re a real fucking whore if ever I knew one, Wade,” he laughs, ignoring the indignant “Hey!”. “So sure, I expected you’d get desperate sooner or later. Thought maybe you’d be able to wait a few more days, at least. Not even a night enough for you?”

“What!” Wade scoffs, his unsullied fingers of his left hand ghosting down on the base of the buttplug. “Like I fucking said, Parker, I’d gotten myself pretty damn riled up, daydreaming about you of all people.”

He snickers, leaning his nude chest down and, Peter swears to God, forcing his eyes down to his stomach muscles as he definitely flexes them on purpose. Fucking show-off.

But Peter can’t complain too much, because he feels pressure at his entrance, untouched for hours and still oh-so virginal despite all the things he’d done with it—Wade had almost been able to fit his entire fucking hand inside of him last time they really got busy with the anal play. And despite all that, he was still tight as the first day he started getting curious, just as pink and fresh and painful.

“You should be flattered, you know,” Wade sighs, leaning down as he only continues pulling on Peter’s ring of muscle despite the grimace he sees. “Many ladies, and guys, for that matter, would gladly throw themselves at my feet just to get fucked into next week!”

He laughs, using the sinewy muscles in his arm to get a good grip on the plug’s stubborn base, pull it as hard as he’s sure Peter’s untrained body will be able to stand. He hears a squeak beneath him, turning into a little keen bitten off by fingernails, hair tossed back on the cover all over again. But this time, not in pleasure so much as pain. Horrible, horrible, uncomfortable pain.

It would be so much easier, Peter thinks, if Wade would just fucking slick him up, use those digits drooling with artificial cum on his other hand and circle the thin plug, maybe stick one in to help stretch him and pull it out.

But they both know very well never to use silicone lube with a silicone toy.

Would ruin it, Wade sneers.

Peter just has to grit and bear it, force himself to relax despite the dry discomfort, the feeling of his hole being stretched open inch by inch with only the slightest remains of water-lube to help, and even then it was terribly sticky, his body having absorbed most of the actual wetness long ago. Fucking water.

But he can breathe a sigh of pure relief when he hears Wade groan in satisfaction, almost pride above him, the toy reaching its peak girth right inside of his entrance before popping relatively easily out and onto the bed to be forgotten on a desk.

And not two seconds of bliss later, Peter’s startled once again by sensations on the same exact spot.

But this time, it’s not painful. Not even uncomfortable, really.

It’s fucking exciting, pure arousal and adrenaline filling him as he’s touched in his most sensitive, heinous spot by the guy he loves the most in the world right now, for some crazy fucking reason.

Makes his flagging cock go stiff in one beat of his blood, arch his back against a roof of hardened muscles and open his lidded eyes to see dark ones staring right back.

And after he’s done finally generously coating Peter’s hole in lube, he dives right in. Two fingers immediately.

It’s like a drop of water after marching in a desert, the wonderfully wet, velvet feeling of Wade’s sure, practised fingers fucking around inside of him. Pressing along his walls, spreading and hitching and constantly moving, just getting him all ready for the main event.

He’s quick, obviously doesn’t feel near as much need as he usually would to do good work of prepping Peter, because the plug had already done much of that for him. It might have been awful pain, but it had completed its job of relaxing his sphincter, keeping his insides nice and open, perfectly ready for whatever was needed inside.

And right now, Wade would wager that Peter would want, need, a cock the most.

Yes, he thinks, as he strokes his fingers just the softest breath on the hard swell of Peter’s prostate, making him bead pearls of cum from his neglected cock, moan like a slut and writhe on his own bed.

Peter needs a cock the most, as he rips his fingers out much too soon for the other’s liking.

And Peter’s about to complain—why’d you stop? You only fucking milked me for like a second—ooh, but then–

All his trouble’s melt right away.

For new, much better ones to replace it immediately.

Because Wade presses his cockhead he’d lubed up in world-record time to his hole, not even properly lined up anywhere else but his dick, that’s how fucking impatient he is.

Peter lets his head fall back, close his eyes and prepare himself while Wade swings a leg over Peter’s, in proper missionary so he can get a nice hold, one hand on Peter’s ass, the other on his own slick shaft.

This is always the hardest part, by far. The actual just getting it in part, because Wade’s pretty fucking big. Much bigger than the buttplug, nice and thick and veiny and Peter’s drooling when he really should be mentally prepping himself to getting fucked, he realizes.

He relaxes his body just as Wade tenses his, leaning forward and pressing down, guiding his cock against Peter’s little pink, wet hole. Pressing in, against, pulling Peter by the other hand until his knuckles turn white, an unconscious frown forming on his face because damn, this is fucking hard–

And then it pops right in.

And the world is pain and pleasure, all at the same time.

But that pain, the discomfort, quickly dispels itself for the both of them. Of course, for Peter it’s bound to be more intense, getting fucked open and all that, but he takes it like a champ. An experienced one, whose body has grown used to getting ravaged like this overtime.

He motions for Wade to continue with a curt nod, a buck of his hips pinned beneath large thighs. And after just one more reassuring pause, Wade does exactly that, thrusting his cock slowly into Peter’s insides an inch at a time.

It’s much, much easier now that the breaching’s over with, just a smooth, gliding slide inward until Wade hilts himself inevitably. But Peter can still enjoy the slight texture of the veins on Wade’s nice, thick cock, almost believes he might be able to feel the thrum in those blood vessels, but that’s probably just his own heart racing.

And Peter feels like heaven around Wade’s cock as he sheaths himself. Like returning home, he can never get enough of it as he groans, letting himself fall to his elbows and cover Peter all over again. Rolls his eyes back in his head as he just lets himself feel the soft velvet of Peter’s hole with his cock, map out the bumps and turns of his guts with his flesh buried so wonderfully deep.

But they both know there’s even more paradise yet to come, so Wade begins to slide his cock out just as Peter tries to cant his ass away. He draws all the way to the lip of his glans, with the sensitivity of his head able to feel the tightness that still remains in Peter’s entrance.

He smiles while Peter’s eyes are still squeezed shut.

Because he knows he’s just gotta change that!

He slams back in, a quick thrust deep enough to sink him all the way to his balls. Peter practically screams beneath him, and he cuts it off with a kiss. Just so he won’t get evicted again, otherwise he’d love nothing more than to have his hero yell his little lungs out all for him.

Wade moves his hands across the bedspread, letting them snap down on the thinnest part of Peter’s waist to hold him in place and leverage himself as he pulls out again.

Just so he can feel that tight, warm sensation on his cock all anew again, he knows, pounding right back in, eating up the ragged groan he gets as a reward.

He feels his cock throb hard and heavy as he continues driving in and out of Peter’s small little hole, his testicles already seizing as he works his lower body, already dangerously close to orgasm even though it’s only been a couple minutes of actual sex.

Wade wishes he could say it’s because he’s basically been edged for a few days now, but we all know very well he’s been jacking it anyway. So he really has no excuse.

But whatever, he can make it up to Peter later, surely. Fuck him nice and slow on a secluded beach in a foreign country or some shit, make love to him in a cabin in the woods he could swindle out of some innocent civilians at gunpoint for.

Or he could just buy it with all the useless money he has, but where’s the fun in that?

Either way, it doesn’t really seem it will matter much, because Peter’s struggling as much as he can, which is almost not at all under Wade’s crushing muscles, of course. Moaning like an actual whore into his mouth, letting his tongue be sucked and twirled as he’s obviously lost into a delirious world of pleasure. Letting loose a whine or a keen or a shout every time Wade drives his cock in, angles his cock up just so it can rub Peter’s prostate and make his slit leak rivulets of cum like a God damned tap.

He knows they’re gonna cum soon enough, just a few more minutes and that’ll surely be it, but Wade just can’t help himself from trying to make it end even faster as he runs his nails up Peter’s flawless chest, over his pecs and to his tiny pink nipples on either side. He takes them between his fingers still slightly slick with lube, pinches them cruelly.

Wade’s barely able to follow Peter’s hips that thrash from the sharp pain, the overwhelming pleasure of having his nipples played with while he’s fucked hard into the bed.

He can’t even fucking think anymore, not even his name, not even Wade’s, not where he is or what’s going on just beyond that his body is getting used like a fleshlight, his hole like a cocksheathe and the rest of him like a pillow or something for Wade to just barrel into, press down against as he grinds his hips into his, steadily thrusting his huge cock in and out of him and making him see stars for all the pleasure it elicits.

Peter wraps his arms around Wade’s strong back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the give and flex of them as he uses them to pound into him almost harder than he surely does even in battle, giving every inch of his being, literally and figuratively.

His cock trapped between their bodies twitches, leaks, throbs more and more until he’s sure he can’t hold away orgasm any longer. He presses his thighs together, tries to wrestle Wade’s fingers off of his chest but it all proves futile. Just left completely at the mercenary’s mercy, his to have, to take, to spare, or to end.

Wade feels Peter go limp beneath him, all but his high moans and whimpers gone still and silent, so damn submissive. It lights something deep and carnal within Wade, to have such mastery over such a comparatively weak thing.

One of the most revered superheroes in the world, and he had him all in his clutches. Able to do whatever he wanted with him. And what does he do?

He fucks him good and hard, until he just has to cum inside of him.

Wade fucks himself in balls-deep, pressing himself down hard enough on Peter’s chest he’s sure he’s restricting his breathing. But beyond that thought in the back of his mind, he can’t think to take action, too busy groaning into Peter’s crying mouth as he spends his load deep inside of his organs, seeding his hole so damn well with hot jets of white cum.

Peter follows right along, almost simultaneous as his lower abdomen seizes. The heat in his belly disperses all at once into a mind-numbing, whole-body orgasm that he can only really show through his mouth, the rest of him draped in pounds of pure Wade. The guy’s so damn cloying and clingy, just as sticky as the ejaculate Peter messes between their stomachs as he cums himself.

And just a minute after their wondrous, perfect climaxes, they’ve regained their breath. Cleared their heads enough to feel the pain in both of their strained bodies, just as worn-out as though they’d done a triathlon.

Able to feel the sweat all over their skin in the room of the small apartment which suddenly seems way too fucking cold, Wade knows instantly what to do.

Peter groans in discomfort as the cock still buried up his ass tugs inside of him at the wrong angle, also brushing against his prostate gland and sending spurs of arousal entirely unwanted now that he’s utterly sexually exhausted.

But it’s fine, because the next thing he knows, he’s on his side, staring into bemused eyes with a cover draped over both of them.

Though, Wade’s cock’s still warm inside his hole, softening but showing no intention of slipping out anytime soon.

Peter rolls his eyes at Wade’s shit-eating grin, knowing all too well what he’s thinking, even if he doesn’t have telepathy as a superpower. Don’t need it when you have such a dick for a boyfriend, after all.

Peter sighs, snuggling up against Wade all the same as the sweat cools off, into the covers which he’ll surely have to do tomorrow.

Whatever, that can wait, he shrugs with a smile of his own.

Because Wade might be a dick, but damn if he didn’t have a nice one, too.

“I love you, Peter~” Wade singsongs all too joyously for a cold-blooded serial murderer, powerful arms taking the other in and pressing his face into Peter’s soft hair.

Well, if Wade had learned Peter might not be all that innocent, after all…

Maybe Peter had to admit Wade might not even be that big of a dick in the first place, honestly.

Just a confused guy.

A very, very confused guy.

He sighs again.

“I love you too, Wade. Now let me sleep, for fuck’s sake.”

Wade's laughter makes for surprisingly good white noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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